


Lay on Hands

by Kika988



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Accidental Stimulation, Body Worship, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, M/M, Massage, Mutual Masturbation, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-06 01:53:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21218615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kika988/pseuds/Kika988
Summary: "Jesus, Shiro, you might need a chiropractor but youdefinitelyneed a massage. You're tense as hell.""Probably," Shiro admits, waving dismissively. "I'll have to try to make time for it.""We could do it now," Keith offers. Shiro blinks at him, and Keith flushes red. "I mean, I could. Do that. For you," he says, stumbling over the words a little. "If you want."Shiro's mind is tipping into dangerous territory at the mental images Keith's offer produces, so he isn't reallythinkingwhen he replies "Um, yeah, sounds great!"Shiro's new desk duties have him feeling a little more tense than usual. Keith wants to help him relax -- because that's what friends do, right?





	Lay on Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I return with another cleaned-up Twitter thread -- only clean in the grammatical sense, though, so no worries. It's just as filthy as ever. Enjoy!
> 
> Many thanks to Kelsey and Ocean for the beta read!

Being captain of the Atlas comes with more paperwork than Shiro is anticipating. It's not too bad, honestly, and he knows it's a small price to pay in the grand scheme of things for the honor of having his own ship to run, but he still tends to procrastinate, letting the work pile up until he can't put it off anymore and he's left with two or three full office days. 

His body isn't used to being still for so long, so his back and shoulders are aching and stiff after just the first day. Normally he'd just push through it, but this time Keith's on board, on a break between Blades missions, and he notices because of course he does.

Shiro explains, a bit sheepishly, and says maybe he's just getting old and needs to see a chiropractor. Keith reaches out and gives Shiro's shoulders a squeeze, then pauses at what he feels there.

"Jesus, Shiro, you might need a chiropractor but you _definitely_ need a massage. You're tense as hell."

"Probably," Shiro admits, waving dismissively. "I'll have to try to make time for it." 

"We could do it now," Keith offers. Shiro blinks at him, and Keith flushes red. "I mean, I could. Do that. For you," he says, stumbling over the words a little. "If you want." 

Shiro's mind is tipping into dangerous territory at the mental images Keith's offer produces, so he isn't really _thinking_ when he replies "Um, yeah, sounds great!" 

Somehow he ends up face down in Keith's bed, which is frankly a problem enough in and of itself.

"So, uh," he starts, turning his head to the side so that his cheek rests on the sheet. "Where did you learn to do this?" 

"With the Blades," Keith replies. "We used to help each other out after rough missions or training sessions. Galra are a little different, obviously, so let me know if I'm pressing too hard."

He's kneeling beside Shiro, bending over him to knead into Shiro's shoulders. He can feel Keith's knees dipping into the mattress next to his ribs, an oddly intimate point of contact. He tries not to think about Keith touching another Blade member like this, or perhaps worse, their large clawed hands on Keith.

He has no right to any possessiveness there. 

"No," he says, his voice a little hoarse, "you're— uh, it's perfect."

"Good," Keith says, continuing his work, digging his fingers into sore muscles, the movement made easier by the lotion he'd produced from somewhere earlier. Silence falls between them, but it's comfortable.

After a few minutes, Keith makes himself more comfortable, slinging a leg over Shiro's thighs to better reach his right shoulder.

"This okay?" 

"Yeah," Shiro says quietly. "It's fine." Because it _should_ be okay. It should be fine for his friend to touch him like this, to share space and help him.

The problem is, he's realized recently that his feelings for Keith extend far beyond friendship. It's been years since _anyone_ has touched him with anything more than friendly intent, and now he's surrounded by the comforting scent of Keith in Keith's bed, the solid weight of him against the back of Shiro's thighs, the press of his palms sliding against skin. 

It doesn't help that Keith kept the lights dim — to create a more relaxing atmosphere, Shiro assumes, but part of his brain insists on interpreting it as romantic.

Well, Shiro thinks to himself, at least the dim light gives him a _chance_ of escaping with his dignity intact. 

Keith has shifted down a bit by now, dragging his hands down the corded muscle on either side of Shiro's spine.

"This isn't just from a day at a desk," Keith says disapprovingly. "You're tense all over and have knots everywhere." He pauses to work strong fingers into one, causing Shiro to hiss in relief as it releases.

"I can't imagine why, we don't have anything to be stressed about," Shiro jokes weakly. Keith snorts above him. "Thanks for doing this. You're good at it." 

"Well, now that you know, you can ask for this more often," Keith says, as he pointedly digs a knuckle into a tense muscle. "Or at least find a massage therapist. You obviously need it."

"Yeah, maybe," Shiro replies noncommittally. 

What he refuses to acknowledge is that he'd absolutely been lying earlier when he'd told Keith he'd look into massage options, because he can't imagine laying himself bare before anyone else like this. Can't imagine trusting anyone else to see and touch all the scars that mar the landscape of his back. 

He can't imagine anyone else being so okay with digging into the muscle under the scar tissue of his ruined shoulder, though it was arguably the area that needed the most attention.

Keith hadn't hesitated to touch the gnarled flesh there, and Shiro loves him for it. 

Even now, Shiro can feel the smooth press of Keith's hands snagging slightly over some of his more raised scars, but Keith doesn't seem bothered as he kneads into the muscles of Shiro's lower back.

Then Keith presses in hard, and Shiro gasps before he can stop himself. Keith freezes instantly.

"Shiro? Did I hurt you?"

"No," Shiro replies quickly. Maybe a little too quickly, but he needs to tear that thread of fear out of Keith's voice. "I'm fine, I promise," he assures him. 

_I'm just also incredibly turned on and you just ground my dick into your mattress,_ he thinks to himself, shifting a bit underneath Keith. The movement both reminds him how close Keith is and drags friction across his growing erection, and he bites back a frustrated groan. 

"Are you sure?" Keith presses. "You just tensed up all over, which, uh, sort of defeats the purpose of this," he says, laughing a little.

"I'm good," Shiro promises. "Guess I've been sleeping weird or something and my lower back's tender." 

"Oh," Keith says, shifting a little. "I'll go a little easier down here, then. Tell me if it's too much." True to his word, he gentles his touch, the sweep of his hands across Shiro's skin barely more than a firm caress now.

It's torture of the best kind. 

This continues for a few more minutes before Shiro reaches his breaking point, both physically and mentally. Physically, he's rock hard, and every movement of Keith's causes friction between him and the mattress. Mentally, the guilt he feels at enjoying Keith's touch this way without him even realizing is getting to be too much. Even if the touch isn't meant to be sexual, he's enjoying it that way, and it feels like a betrayal of trust.

"Keith," he finally says. "Stop, please." 

Keith stops instantly, lifting his hands from Shiro's skin.

"What's wrong?" he asks, concern plain in his tone.

"Nothing," Shiro says immediately. "I mean, nothing you did," he amends. "I just need to... stop. I'm enjoying it _too_ much. This isn't fair to you." 

"You can give me a backrub too, if it'll make you feel better," Keith offers with a quiet laugh. Shiro can hear the nerves in the sound and hates that he put it there. "Seriously, Shiro, I don't mind. I'm glad to help."

"No, it's not that, it's—" Shiro sighs, burying his face in his arms. "I'm hard," he admits, his voice muffled. 

Keith goes still above him, and Shiro can only imagine the picture they must make — him, face down on the bed, hiding his face in shame, Keith frozen above him, probably horrified by what Shiro just said. Shiro's mind races as the silence continues, wracking his brain for a way to fix things. He's made things so awkward, needs to assure Keith he'd never— 

"That's okay," Keith says, bringing Shiro's thoughts to a grinding halt.

"What?" 

"I said it's okay," Keith repeats, slower. "It's just a thing that happens sometimes, right?" He huffs out a quiet laugh. "I mean, better here with me than with some random masseuse, right?" 

"Keith," Shiro says quietly, because he can't lie, not about this, not when he's been dancing around saying something for months now, "it's _because_ it's you."

Keith's quiet, almost breathless _oh_ sounds impossibly loud in the quiet room. 

"I'm sorry," Shiro says, clenching his hands into fists before he starts to push himself up. "I'll go." 

"Wait," Keith says, planting one hand in the middle of Shiro's back, halting his movement. There's another tense moment of silence as Keith seems to struggle to find words, but Shiro waits. He owes him that much, at least.

"What if I don't want you to?" 

And Shiro... well, he wasn't prepared for that response. He knows, intellectually, that others see how Keith acts around him and assume he has a crush, but he never wanted to make that assumption. Couldn't afford to, really, not with his heart on the line. 

So instead, he says the first thing that comes to mind, the first fear, first concern that's always dogged his steps when it comes to Keith.

"You don't owe me anything," he says, taking great pains to keep his tone calm and even. 

"Owe you—" There's no mistaking the surprise in Keith's voice, edging into anger there at the end. Suddenly Keith's shifting forward so that Shiro can feel the unmistakable shape of Keith's own hardness against his ass. "Does _this_ feel like gratitude to you?" Keith snaps. 

Shiro can't even begin to disguise his gasp and certainly has no excuse for how he presses up into Keith on pure instinct.

"No," he says, the word so strangled it's barely recognizable. "God, Keith." 

"I've been hard as a rock for the last half hour," Keith says, almost conversationally. He's bent forward now so that his breath ghosts over the back of Shiro's neck. "My abs are sore from keeping myself angled so that you wouldn't feel it." 

"I, uh. I definitely don't mind feeling it," Shiro says, swallowing hard. He can hear Keith's breath hitch at that, feels what's probably an involuntary twitch of his hips forward. "Feels pretty good, actually." Keith's hips roll forward firmly once, his breath stuttering over the back of Shiro's neck, before he pushes up and swings a leg over Shiro's hips so that he's kneeling by his side again.

He taps Shiro's hip and says, "Roll over." 

Shiro hesitates — his sweats aren't going to hide much — but Keith knows, and he's still asking, so he complies, rolling over and propping himself up on his elbows.

Keith drags his eyes down Shiro's chest, lets his gaze snag on the tent in his sweats, and he looks _hungry_.

"Keith," Shiro breathes out. "What are you-"

"Hush," Keith interrupts, and Shiro obeys immediately. "I'm not done with the massage yet. Just relax."

It's a hard order to follow when Keith swings a long, lean leg over him to straddle Shiro's thighs again, but he tries. 

Keith starts on Shiro's shoulders again, which requires him to lean forward, stretching along the length of Shiro's torso and pressing their groins together in a way that is both amazing and terrible. It takes all of Shiro's self-control to not roll his hips up into Keith's. 

It also means Keith's face is hovering in easy view. He's concentrating, eyes firmly on what his hands are doing, giving Shiro the chance to simply watch him, take in his dark eyes, the sharp angle of his cheekbones, the way he's pursed his lips in concentration. 

Keith's eyes flick up to Shiro's briefly, and Shiro sucks in a breath at the controlled heat he sees there. Keith holds the eye contact for a moment then starts working his way down Shiro's chest, pausing for more lotion before setting to work on his pecs. He's thorough, his long fingers kneading the firm muscles of Shiro's chest. He doesn't pay any particular attention to Shiro's nipples but also doesn't avoid them, leaving Shiro to hiss between his teeth at the fleeting contact.

Keith grins at that and moves on. 

Next, he works on Shiro's abs, pressing and releasing, curving his hands around Shiro's sides to work on his obliques as well. He makes his way down to the skin of Shiro's lower belly, fingers dancing down the v of his hips until he encounters the elastic band of the sweats. 

He looks up then, eyes serious."Can I kiss you?"

"God, yes, _please_," Shiro groans, and Keith practically crawls back up Shiro's body to reach his lips before he's even done answering.

Shiro doesn't remember moving, but somehow his hands are in Keith's hair as their lips meet. Keith's lips are soft and warm, and the kiss starts out slow and sweet, a gentle glide. Keith pulls back to look down at Shiro, then leans in again, once again starting out slow, but this time the kiss quickly deepens, turning downright dirty. 

Shiro groans against Keith's lips, and Keith makes a pleased sound in reply, nipping at Shiro's lower lip then dropping another quick kiss there before pulling away to smile down at him. 

"Thanks," he says, a bit breathless. "Just wanted to kiss you before I put my mouth anywhere else, but honestly I didn't trust myself to stick to that once I got your pants off. Uh, I mean," he adds, blushing, "if you want that." 

Shiro is utterly charmed by the way Keith can go so quickly from being in charge and seductive to embarrassed. He's always just _Keith_ with Shiro, even now, and Shiro has never been more in love.

"Yeah," he says, pausing to clear his throat when it comes out a little hoarse. "Uh, yeah. I want that, if you do." 

Keith flashes him a grin and starts to move his hands to the band of Shiro's sweatpants when suddenly Shiro sits up enough to grab Keith's hands, struck by a sudden thought and in desperate need of clarification.

"Wait," he says, swallowing hard when Keith looks back up at him, eyes wide. "This isn't, like, a one-time casual thing, right?" 

"_No_," Keith replies instantly. "I mean, I hope not," he adds, grimacing.

"Good," Shiro breathes, and then they're kissing again, Keith's lips hungry on his own as he shoves Shiro's pants down. 

Keith's lips follow the same path his hands took earlier, kissing down Shiro's pecs, pausing to tease his teeth over a nipple in a way that makes Shiro suck in a sharp breath. He moves farther down, letting his tongue trail into each dip between Shiro's abs. He takes his time at Shiro's hips, nipping his way down each side of the vee there while dragging his fingers through the coarse hair on Shiro's lower belly. He drags his fingers a little lower with each pass, temptingly close to where Shiro really wants them. 

At one point Shiro reaches for Keith, wants to try to touch him as well, but Keith leans back with a grin.

"Ah ah, you're supposed to be relaxing," Keith scolds mildly.

"I think I would find touching you _very_ relaxing," Shiro argues reasonably. Keith laughs but doesn't relent. 

"I want to take care of you," Keith says, reaching down to drag his fingertips oh-so-lightly down Shiro's cock in what Shiro will consider a _highly_ unfair move... later, when he can think properly again. "Let me?" 

"Yes," Shiro says, hips canting up of their own accord, chasing more of Keith's touch. "Yes, baby, whatever you want."

Keith grins, eyes going soft at the endearment.

"Good," he says, backing off enough to make Shiro whine in protest. "Roll over."

Shiro hesitates, but Keith raises an eyebrow expectantly and he finds himself obeying. Once he's settled, Keith pulls his sweats the rest of the way off, pulling them carefully over Shiro's feet, then dropping a kiss on his ankle bone before running his hands up Shiro's legs. 

For a few minutes, it seems as if he's simply resuming his massage. He focuses on the muscles of Shiro's thighs, giving each a thorough rubdown before moving up to his ass. At first, he zeroes in on the muscle there, firmly kneading and rubbing like he’d done everywhere else. 

The firm touches are enough to press Shiro harder than before into the mattress; he has to resist the urge to roll his hips down in order to get more friction on his erection. Keith leans in and presses a warm, open-mouthed kiss to Shiro's lower back, then trails his lips lower. 

One hand continues kneading gently as Keith pulls back a bit, pausing to just look. Shiro turns his head to look back over his shoulder and is immediately taken by the intent expression on Keith's face. 

With his free hand, Keith slides gentle fingers down the cleft of Shiro's ass. The touch is light, almost soothing, but Shiro is so sensitive by this point that he buries his face in his arms again with a groan as Keith's fingertip teases over his hole. 

"This okay?" Keith asks, rubbing there lightly.

"_So_ okay. God, Keith."

Keith huffs out a laugh. "I'd be asking to fuck you, but you have another full day of sitting at your desk tomorrow, don't you?" He rubs a bit harder, and Shiro arches his back, pressing up helplessly. 

"I don't care," Shiro says. "I'll be fine, you-"

He's cut off when Keith presses his fingertip in, ever so slightly, causing Shiro's breath to catch in his throat.

"The whole point of this was for you to be less uncomfortable," Keith points out. "Besides, I have other ideas." 

Shiro opens his mouth to reply again, to insist, or maybe even to beg, he's not sure anymore, but then something warm and wet replaces Keith's finger and he stops being able to _think_, let alone speak. 

Keith's hands are firm on Shiro's hips, holding him still where he wants him as he eats him out with enthusiasm and skill that possibly should shock Shiro, but being that it's Keith, who excels at everything he puts his mind to, it really, really doesn't. 

Shiro can't seem to control the sounds coming out of his mouth — from chest-deep moans to pleading, to saying Keith's name on repeat as if it's the only word he knows anymore, unending noise spills out of him whether he wants it to or not. Keith hums in approval, lapping broad strokes then twisting his tongue as he presses in, agonizingly slow, as if he has nothing better to do with his time. As if he could spend hours doing this.

He probably could, Shiro thinks deliriously, but he's not sure _he_ can.

"Keith, _please_."

Keith pulls back enough to look up at Shiro; his lips and chin are wet, and he swipes his forearm across his chin.

"You make the best sounds," he says, unashamed. "I bet you can come like this," he adds, leaning back in for another broad swipe of his tongue. "Can't you?" 

Shiro laughs a little, breathless, because he loves this man _so much_.

"Probably," he admits, even as he lowers his hips and rolls over, causing Keith's eyes to narrow. "But I'd rather come with you. Looking at you." 

Keith's expression goes soft at that, and Shiro pulls him in, kissing him as he rolls his hips up into Keith's.

"God, you're still so hard," Shiro gasps as they break apart. Keith blushes and ducks his head a little.

"I really liked the noises you were making," he admits. 

"I wanna hear you, too," Shiro says, hands already tugging at Keith's shirt. "Come on, you're wearing too many clothes."

Keith manages to shed his clothes relatively quickly, though he's occasionally slowed down by Shiro leaning in to mouth at his neck or shoulder. 

"You're beautiful," Shiro says quietly as Keith tosses his underwear off the side of the bed. He sweeps his right hand down Keith's side, watches Keith's eyes go dark as he shivers under the touch. 

Shiro rolls them over so that he's on top, Keith's hair splayed ink-dark against the sheet. He lets his left hand wander down Keith's body while Keith watches, eyes wide but trusting, always trusting. When he makes it down to Keith's erection, he thumbs lightly over the tip, catching the precome gathered there. He brings his thumb to his mouth, smiling when Keith whines as he licks it off. 

"You should probably know," Shiro says conversationally, "that I _really_ want to get my mouth on your dick. I've thought about it for a long time. I'm only waiting because I want to see your face the first time you come with me."

"_Shiro_."

With that, he licks a wide stripe down his palm, then grasps both their erections in one large hand, jacking them off in smooth, quick motions. They let out twin groans at the friction, and within seconds they're both thrusting into Shiro's fist. Keith reaches out, threading his fingers through Shiro's and following his rhythm easily, eyes wide and locked on how perfectly their hands fit together around their dicks. It isn't long before Keith's hips are stuttering, his breath catching as he nears the end. 

Shiro leans in to kiss Keith again, and Keith groans into his mouth, chasing Shiro's tongue hungrily. When they part, Shiro kisses his way down Keith's neck, pausing to press a hot open-mouthed kiss over the knob of his Adam's apple. 

"God, Shiro," Keith pants. "I'm close, I need to— I'm gonna—"

"Yes, baby," Shiro encourages him, pulling back to look down at him. "I want to see it, want to see you. Come for me." 

Shiro watches, rapt, as Keith's eyebrows furrow, his eyes close, and his mouth falls open in wordless pleasure, his hips stuttering as he comes over their joined fingers.

He's the most beautiful thing Shiro has ever seen. 

Seconds later, before Keith's even regained his breath, Shiro's following him, his voice breaking over Keith's name as he shudders through his own release. 

Somehow, Shiro has the presence of mind to list to the side as he collapses to the bed so that he doesn't land on Keith, but he loses track of time for a few minutes after that. When he blinks his eyes open again, Keith is running gentle fingers through Shiro's hair. 

"You okay?" Keith asks, smiling down at him.

"Way better than okay," Shiro answers, grinning. He reaches out, taking Keith's free hand and threading their fingers together. "This isn't how I saw this going, you know."

"What, the massage? Yeah, me either." 

"No," Shiro says, laughing. "Us. I wasn't sure you'd even _want_ an ‘us,’ but... but I thought all the time about asking you out. Taking you somewhere nice, romancing you. I just never worked up the nerve to do it," he admits.

"You still could," Keith points out, grinning.

"Oh?" 

"Yeah." Keith raises their joined hands and presses a kiss to Shiro's knuckles. "I'll make it really easy on you — I'm gonna say yes."

Shiro makes a show of pondering the prospect. 

"One question," he says after a moment. "If I ask you out now, does that mean I have to wait ‘til after the date to suck your dick?"  
Keith flushes red but doesn't look away. "I think we've both waited plenty long enough, don't you?" 

They're both smiling as they kiss, and still smiling later as Shiro takes Keith out on their first date that weekend.

(Spoiler alert: he doesn't wait that long to suck him off the first time. Or the second.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are always appreciated, and I'm always happy to chat or take prompts over on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/kika988_).


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